Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge) (9 page)

What the fuck is that?

Nothing
...
Just close your eyes!

Am I really having a conversation with myself again?

Not understanding why my window was open, I was about to get up and close it when I heard my phone vibrating on my nightstand—picking it up when I saw the name.

“I was worried about you.” Jameson said softly. “Are you okay?”

“You better get your ass over here right now you mother fucking scary movie pusher,” I seethed and hung up.

I ran downstairs and was out the door before he even hung up. He met me at the end of my street seeing how our houses were less than a mile away and if you cut through the trees, it took only two minutes to get there.

Why I was running around at three in the morning should have concerned me more that the goddamn movie but I was a chicken shit and I needed Jameson.

I also wanted to kick the shit out of him.

“Sway?” he called from the bushes, hiding in the dark corner of the street.

“Why are you in the bushes? Get out here asshole,” I yelled, sad that I had been reduced to this, but glad to see him.

I kept myself under the dim luminosity of the streetlights above. I had this crazy notion that nothing would attack me if I was lit up.

A few minutes later, we were settled in my bed this time, thankfully he brought his afghan with him, which, I now had draped over me once again.

“We are damn near seventeen years old and terrified of a movie,” I mused ashamed of myself.

He let out a nervous chuckle leaning back against my headboard.

“I wouldn’t say I’m terrified—spooked yes. That was surprisingly
...
believable. Who thought of that shit anyway? My god,” he shook his head in disbelief. “I have some serious concerns about that director now. I mean, can he sleep at night after filming that?”

“Great, now I’m scared again.”

We sat there laughing for a few minutes at how childish this was while he wrapped his arms around me pulling me flush against his body. It was comforting.

“I feel better.” I added a few minutes snuggling in.

 “
Me
too, not too spooked anymore.”

“How’s your head feeling?” I reached out to run my fingers over the bruises forming on his forearms where he’d obviously hit objects inside the car.

“I’m fine, sore
...
but fine.”

You don’t realize the dangers of racing when you’re watching but they’re there. A slip of just an inch in a sprint car and you’re flying through the air. I’ve seen Jameson wreck and I admit that it gives me a heart attack each time but I also know that he is doing what he loves. I was in no position to tell him to stop. I could only hope that he is safe.

We eventually fell asleep on my bed wrapped around each other because I refused to leave any space between us just as I did during the movie.

He didn’t complain.

When we woke up the next morning, still wrapped around each other, Charlie was not so pleased that Jameson was in my bed.

“Sway?” he called out as he opened my door. “Oh sorry
...
” his deep voice trailed off but then he took a double take. “Jameson?”

Jameson, not completely awake shot up in my bed.

“Huh
...
what
...
?” he glanced around and then looked at me and back to Charlie and then moaned out in pain when he realized how sore he was as he tried to untangle himself from me.

Charlie chuckled but didn’t look happy. “What are you doing here Jameson?”

“Uh
...
I was spooked?” he looked at me arching an eyebrow.

“Yes
...
spooked.” I glanced to Charlie. “We watched The Exorcist last night after we got home. It was a disaster. I don’t think I’ll ever sleep with the lights off again.”

Charlie laughed again. “I almost shit myself when I watched that movie.” He shuddered and began to leave before looking back over his shoulder. “Jameson, your mom called for you. I told her you weren’t here but apparently, I’m wrong.”

By the look on his face, I had a feeling I’d hear about this later.

When the door clicked shut, Jameson groaned again and leaned back on my bed before grabbing a pillow and placing it over his hips.

I giggled.

“Problems?”

“Shut up.” He snapped and hobbled to my bathroom.

I made my way downstairs to see Charlie sitting at the kitchen table rubbing his head, his face buried in his hands. “You okay?”

His head shot up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He cleared his throat reaching for his paper. “Listen, I don’t want boys spending the night. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I know,” I agreed pouring myself a bowl of Captain Crunch. “It wasn’t planned. Like I said, we were a little freaked out by that movie.”

“I know, but just
...
be
careful okay.”

“It’s not like that dad. Jameson and I are friends, nothing more.” I said this as though I was trying to convince myself of it when really; I think I was.

I felt something for him but I had no idea what it was. I couldn’t even decide on what to wear in the morning most days let alone decipher feelings.

Charlie looked at me for a long moment before narrowing his eyes at me. “Have you thought of college yet?”

I shrugged.

“Not really. It’s a little overwhelming.” I pulled my hair back into a ponytail before digging into my cereal.

“That’s life kid,”

I snorted, bad idea with milk in your mouth. I ended up inhaling a crunch berry up my nose. “And I thought deciding on what cereal to eat in the morning was hard.” I choked out.

He chuckled carrying his empty coffee cup over to the counter. “Well kid, it’s time I made it to the track. Some people don’t have the luxury of sitting around all day eating cereal.
Some people
have to work.”

“Some people will enjoy doing nothing today. Some people; have fun.”

I sort of zoned out reading the back of the cereal box in front of me as Charlie stared out the kitchen window.

“Hey Sway
...
is Jameson okay?”

“Uh
...
I think so, why?” I looked up from the box glancing around the kitchen to see Jameson in the front yard, puking.

Concerned, I ran out there.

“Are you all right?” I asked frantically rubbing his back over his t-shirt.

“I think so
...
my head just hurts.” He took in a deep breath before removing his t-shirt to wipe his face of sweat and puke.

“Maybe you should go to the doctor.”

He slumped back in the grass. “I’m fine
...
it’s just a headache.”

I watched him for a moment. The sharp defined lines of his stomach contracting with each deep breath he inhaled and exhaled.

I’ve been around enough race car drivers to know they will
never
admit when they’re hurt and will
never
go to the doctor. Most say it’s nothing a beer can’t fix.

“Maybe you should take a shower.” I suggested. “That might make you feel better.”

He finally smiled.
“With you?”

And he’s back.

“No,” I laughed. “You take a shower—without me.”

“Oh,” he stuck out his bottom lip. “It might make me feel better.”

“I don’t think so champ. That’s what Chelsea and your hand are for.”

I helped him to the bathroom and he tried to drag me in there with him laughing and I slapped him. He winced, I felt bad but not bad enough to get in there with him.

Jameson always teased that he was attracted to me but I chalked it up to friendly flirting. All guys did that, even Tommy flirted with me and I thought for sure Tommy was gay when I first met him. It didn’t mean Jameson had feelings and it didn’t mean I had any for him outside of friendship.

I was obviously no judge on attraction—Dylan would be a prime example. I thought he liked me, he said he did, we had sex and as soon as he pulled out, it was over. He never spoke to me again, just walked away.

I’d never felt so used, disgusting and dirty in my life as I did lying in the back of my old beat up truck half naked.

I don’t understand why people can’t decipher their emotions but I knew I couldn’t and neither could any other teenager I knew.

I also didn’t trust my feelings—look at Dylan. I felt something for him, so I thought and look how that turned out.

I had an attraction to Jameson as it was becoming apparent with my constant glances at his rock hard body but I also saw his desire to race. I’ve met a lot of racers at the track but no one ever showed the desire to be the best like Jameson did. He was focused, determined, and above all else, he had the ability. That combined with his burning desire made him unstoppable.

He was a natural on the track. He was born to do this and I wouldn’t get in his way and I
wouldn’t
be a distraction.

I would be the friend he needed and not the distraction he didn’t.

5.
    
Dialing
In
– Jameson

Dialing In – This refers to the driver and crew making setup adjustments to achieve the car’s optimum handling characteristics.

My senior year I decided I was going to race with the World of Outlaws when they were in Skagit so that left Sway and I traveling together on a Tuesday night since the race was on a Wednesday.

After convincing Charlie that I needed her there, he agreed to let her skip school.

Spencer, Tommy and Emma also came along. This was our usual traveling team aside from Alley who decided to sit this one out.

We never had money to pay anyone that helped us since any money I did have went right back into my car. Tommy never once acted as though he wanted to be paid for helping. We did pay his way and fed him. If you knew Tommy, you knew that all he wanted was food and beer; money didn’t matter. It didn’t matter to any of us as all any of us lived for was the next race.

I always thought I was taking something away from Spencer and Emma being the only that raced but I soon understood that’s what they loved. They loved racing as much as I did and being the supportive family we came from, they did everything they could to help me.

I was loved that’s for sure but that doesn’t mean they didn’t make me crazy. At the end of the day, we loved each other and they were the best fans I could ask for.

It wasn’t unusual for Sway and me to be riding together in my truck and the others to ride in Tommy’s car. I preferred it that way for less distractions but the trip there ended up being the worst distraction of all.

Just outside of Seattle, Sway was searching around in the backseat for a CD when she turned abruptly and sat back in her seat. I glanced around to see if she saw a cop of something but nothing, just open highway.

“Jameson, what’s that smell?” she asked, her hand flew to her nose.

“Huh?” I didn’t smell anything but her coconut perfume.

Sway slapped me. “Seriously, it smells in here. Roll your window down.” She instructed rolling hers down frantically. She turned around again and stuck her ass up in the air digging around on the floor. “I still smell it, what is it?”

“I don’t smell anything.”

She
huffed
dramatically flopping back in the seat. She kept looking at me before averting her disgusted gaze out the window as a red Lexus flew past us.

I thought she’d moved on from the smell but then she groaned.

“Christ almighty, what the fuck is that?”

“I don’t smell anything!” I snapped annoyed she was making such a big deal out of this.

“Of course you don’t,” she went back to searching around on the floor in the back seat. “
you’re
used to it!”

A few minutes later, she pulled out a box I didn’t recognize that clearly had something die in it. “Where’d that come from?”

“I don’t know—your backseat?” Her eyebrow arched.

I smelled Spencer behind this one. He once put a dead rat in the vent in my bedroom and if you have ever tried to get that smell out of a heater vent, it is fucking hopeless.

When Sway opened the box, I nearly wrecked the fucking truck at the site of week old sushi covered in maggots and god knows what else.

When she puked on me after opening the box, I did wreck the truck in the ditch.

We sat there for a moment when I finally brought the truck to a halt on the side of the road, after barreling into the ditch, there appeared to be a stump that came out of nowhere. I hit that too.